Turnabout Monologues
by Traveler42
Summary: Throughout the entire series, you see a very wild cast of characters, victims, murderers, and some in-between. But what was everyone actually thinking?
1. Chapter 1: Case 1-1 Cindy Stone

**Chapter 1: Reset (Cindy Stone)**

"Cindy, darling, you know that our time together meant the world to me"

"You don't care about me at all, do you?" Cindy allowed her eyes to mist up, her voice cracking in the right places.

"Stop the act. We both are using each other and I just wanted to have us on the same page before we go back to America." The old man sighed and took a bite into his croissant.

"Will I see you again?" Cindy asked, knowing the answer was no.

He chuckled. "I certainly will miss you, is that good enough?"

Cindy had enough of him, so she fled to her hotel room to pack some of her things before going to the airport. Clothes, makeup, everything was in the suitcase except for the clock.

It was an unusual clock. It looked like The Thinker and was made by one of Cindy's exes. She didn't understand why she kept it. It was rather heavy, and she didn't like to keep mementos. But she allowed herself to think back to the guy who gave it to her.

Larry Butz. Everything about him was as unfortunate as his last name. He wasn't rich, wasn't all that smart, very needy, and slightly creepy. But there was still something cute about him. The way he would completely devote himself to a girl, spending everything he didn't have, and tolerate almost any treatment.

Cindy didn't want to admit it, but she led him on just to see his reactions. His little temper-tantrums, the puppy dog eyes, it was actually kind of sweet when he stood outside her apartment in the rain for four hours straight.

Pushing the thought aside, she shoved the clock back into her suitcase. Cindy made a mental to reset it as soon as she got home.

While on the plane, Cindy pondered on her life so far. Being a model, not getting nearly enough recognition, making most of her money off old guys who were… less than ideal partners. Cindy was semi-successful, but she wasn't happy. Deep down, she wanted her ideal man to come around, sweep her off her feet, and they would live together, having a passionate relationship.

But that couldn't be, not with Cindy's reputation now… More than anything she wanted to start over. She knew that this wasn't the first time she wished this, and it wouldn't be the last.

_If I could just hit the reset button to my life… I would change so much, maybe get an extra job instead of going to sugar daddies. I don't know… You know what? How about I stop whining and actually do something for once. My income isn't something I can change, but maybe I can stop going around with every company executive with money. Yeah, a steady boyfriend sounds nice, maybe one with decent income, no, stop thinking about money. Maybe I should give Larry another chance, no, that's just being silly. I should probably get some sleep…_

Closing her eyes, Cindy fell into a restless sleep. She was woken up by the flight attendant, and after that was a blur. Lights, people chatting, piles of luggage, calling a taxi, Cindy couldn't recall any of the details.

Arriving to her apartment, Cindy opened her suitcase, looked at it for two seconds, put the clock on the table, and decided she did enough unpacking for now. Laziness wasn't just the problem. Cindy was hungry, had a headache, and was seriously jet-lagged.

After getting something a sandwich and some coffee at a nearby café, Cindy started to walk back to her apartment, passing by the ugly green phone booth at the park. She considered calling her manager, and make it clear that there was no way she was going to do a photo shoot tomorrow morning, but her paycheck couldn't handle that.

The first thing Cindy did was plop on the couch and reached for the remote, but then she heard the sound of the door opening. Oh, right, she forgot to lock the door. But who could be at the door?

She turned and got out up, seeing a man wearing a purple suit. Cindy didn't recognize the guy and reached for the phone, but he struck first.

She didn't even have the chance to have any significant final thoughts.

_What the hell? What….._

*'**"***"**'*

After acquainting herself with the friendly courtroom ghosts, Cindy Stone watched her own murder trial.

Being unable to do anything almost drove her crazy. And that old guy with the gray suit had no right to talk about her like he knew her. Larry definitely didn't kill her, but the way he talked made Cindy wonder why she dated him in the first place.

The lawyer guy was actually pretty cool, though he had a questionable taste in suits. Cindy didn't like the lady next to him, because she never trusted a lady who exposed herself like that.

It was a good thing that Cindy was dead, otherwise the when the judge proclaimed the 'not guilty' verdict, people would be wondering why that one lady was dancing and making very rude gestures towards Frank Sawit.

During Frank's trial, Cindy could barely contain her laughter the whole time. She didn't even bother to contain it. When justice was served, Cindy didn't have a direction now. So, she just wandered, not knowing what to do. Though she did enjoy haunting clock shops and Larry's dates occasionally…


	2. Chapter 2: Case 1-1 Frank Sawit

**Chapter 2: Newspapers (Frank Sawit) **

The first thing Frank Sawit ever stole was a candy bar.

He was about 6 or 7, in the grocery store with his mother on a Sunday, in the checkout aisle. In those aisles, there are always those gossip magazines, and a shelf full of snacks, trying to entice an impulse buy. It just before lunchtime, and Frank was getting pretty hungry.

"Mom, can I have a KitKat? Pppllleeeaaassseee?" He used the gift that kids his age were starting to master, the adorable cute face that no adult can resist.

Except for parents. "No, Frankie, we're about to have lunch. Maybe next time, ok?" This is almost the exact same thing she said last time. Frank had learned by this point that throwing a temper tantrum did not get you what you wanted and you sometimes got in trouble.

But he wanted it. So when his mom was paying the cashier, he grabbed the KitKat, and stuffed it into his pocket. Frank's heart was pounding so loud, he was surprised his mother couldn't hear it. The crinkling sound of the wrapper magnified, filling his ears, hands becoming sweaty, he was going to get caught, he just knew it…

"Frankie, can you go get a newspaper for me? Here's some change, this should be enough." His mother handed him some spare change. Frank grabbed it and ran out as fast as he could, towards those boxes outside the store where the Sunday papers were. While slowly putting the coins in the slot, Frank's hands becoming slicker by the second.

Grabbing the newspaper, Frank realized it was the best place to hide his stolen good. Right inside the comics, since he was the only one who read them. Trying to steady his shaking hands, Frank looked for his mother and saw her talking with the bagger outside the car, giving a small tip. Running as fast as his small legs could take him, Frank reached the car, got into his seat, buckled up, and held the newspaper close to his chest.

His mother glanced at him from the review mirror, noticing the sweat dripping from his pale face. "You okay, Frankie? We'll be home soon."

"I'm fine, mom. I'm just really hungry." His mother nodded in understanding and started the car. 10 minutes later, they arrived home. After putting away groceries, Frank separated the comics from the rest of the newspaper, giving his mom the rest. As he sat down to eat his lunch, opening the comics to read, the candy bar fell right into his lap.

After he was finished eating, his mother was so engrossed in the latest celebrity break-up, she didn't even notice Frank leaving the table to go to his room. And there was where he ate his hard-earned prize.

If she had caught him that day, that might have been the end of it. If she had caught him any of the other times that would probably have been the end of it. But she didn't. He never got caught, and because of that first victory, Frank considered newspapers to be lucky.

*'**"***"**'*

High school was not a pleasant experience for Frank Sawit. He was teased and bullied for multiple things including his last name, skin color, the mole in the middle of his forehead, and the funny little dance Frank did when he got nervous. Not being particularly athletic, Frank decided to join the school newspaper.

If he was being honest, those meetings were some of the best times of his life, even if it was just a cover. He even dated the gossip columnist for a little while, but she left him for the debate captain two months later. Frank's writing was average, but he got his revenge.

The school newspaper was only $2.50 and about three pages long, and Frank was in charge of selling them, and he typically approached people during lunch and in-between classes, in front of their open lockers. By his senior year, it had almost become too easy. Distract them with talking while rummaging through their stuff, or if it was too risky, figure out their combination and break into it later. He saw it as a beautiful revenge, and a legitimate way of making money.

By the time graduation came around, Frank didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have any particular interests, grades were a B/C average, and he was ready to leave his hometown for a bigger city. Somewhere out on the west coast.

Then Frank was hit with a conclusion. _I could steal for a living. _To him, it seemed like it was the only thing he was good at. _Besides, I never get caught. _And thus, his career on the other side of the law began.

*'**"***"**'*

Frank stood there, his hands shaking. He couldn't believe it. He had actually murdered another human being. He didn't want this. He just wanted her jewels, maybe some of the expensive-looking clothes in the closet. He wasn't supposed to get caught. Never. He was supposed to be a newspaper salesman, a position that always gave him luck.

Not to mention… that statue spoke. The time it said burned itself into Frank's mind. He didn't know what to do. He never planned for this. His heart was pounding, hands becoming slick underneath the gloves. Then it dawned on him. He could blame someone else, yes, after all, he was just a poor newspaper salesman that just found the body. Frank clung to that lie with extreme fervor. He had to believe it, the police had to believe it, otherwise…

*'**"***"**'*

At the witness stand, it can feel like the whole world is against you. The pressure of the law can have different effects on the people who testify. It made Frank into a shaking, quivering wreck. No matter how many times he told himself, he couldn't escape from the fact that someone died because of him. The value of irreplaceable possessions was easy to calculate, but the value of a life?

The blue-suited defense lawyer did nothing to ease Frank's nerves. The pressure mounted up until Frank couldn't take any more and threw the toupee he stole from a rich fat man while he was sleeping. Even while doing it, Frank knew it was a stupid thing to do. He didn't even understand the words coming out of his own mouth. He knew it was too late. He knew he was facing prison. He knew it was the end.

*'**"***"**'*

"Sir, this is Prisoner 45-C, Frank Sawit, sir!" The security guard escorting Frank announced to his superior.

"Right, send him to the Von Karma block." The guard said in a bored tone.

Frank vaguely recalled the prosecutor at his trial was called Von Karma, at least he thought that's what it was.

Peeking through the cell doors, Frank saw an assortment of people, some of which didn't look like criminals. Gulping despite his dry throat, Frank braced himself, not knowing what to expect. Hoping there was at least a newspaper to read.


End file.
